


The Mad Scientist

by Rubadubababyoil



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Depressed Brian May, Early Queen (Band), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Freddie plays with Brian's hair, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hugs, M/M, Mother Hen Freddie Mercury, Panic Attacks, Pre-Queen (Band), Sad Brian May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubadubababyoil/pseuds/Rubadubababyoil
Summary: After days of stress, Brian starts to have a panic attack over his unfinished thesis. Freddie calms him down.
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	The Mad Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> This is can teeeechnically be seen as really deep friendship if you want, but this is really pre-slash. I SWEAR I'll stop writing sleepy fluff between these two, but I was stressed and wrote this to cope :P

They hadn’t been living together for very long, but Freddie had the sense that he was starting to be able to tell when Brian got stressed out. Everyone felt stress—it was as natural as any other emotion—but Brian had vaguely mentioned being prone to dark moods once or twice. When Freddie or Roger asked him about it, he’d just shaken his head and said it wasn’t something they needed to worry about.

Freddie got a feeling that he was lying.

But he understood. When Freddie was truly hurting, he didn’t like to bother other people with his problems. If it were something (admittedly) trivial, he had no problem throwing a fuss, but he never wanted the people he cared about to  _ actually  _ worry about him. Maybe Brian felt the same way, but just because Freddie understood that point of view didn’t mean he would sit around and do nothing, because the only thing he hated more than his friends being upset was sitting and not doing anything about it.

Brian had grown a little quieter over the past few days. Some sort of deadline was coming up for his thesis, so at first, Freddie and Roger just figured that he was deep in thought and decided to give him space to think. That might not have been the best idea, though, because Brian was starting to look quite drained. Right now, he was sitting down at the small kitchen table in their flat. His hair was in more disarray than usual, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hands tapped anxiously on the table as he waited for the kettle to boil. He was on edge, clearly, and looked like he would jump out of his skin if anyone snuck up on him. He was a night owl by nature, but Freddie didn’t think he was sleeping much at all; they shared a room, and the past two nights, Brian was reading books when Freddie went to sleep, and reading when he woke up. Earlier today, Freddie caught him just staring blankly at the wall. When he asked what he was doing, Brian got flustered and went back to his book.

In truth, Freddie thought he was starting to drive himself a bit mad. His studies were important to him, and Freddie wasn’t going to act like he knew what writing a thesis was like, but Brian needed to take care of himself regardless of what school demanded.

Freddie watched him from across the table with a twinge of concern in his chest. “Brian, are you all right?” he asked softly.

Brian nodded, but he wasn’t looking at him. He was staring into space, and seemed to be in a world of his own. “Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that did a fat lot of nothing to convince Freddie. “Thinking about uni?”

“Yeah, as usual.”

Freddie wished he could help, but he couldn’t pretend to act like he knew what Brian was talking about half the time with astrophysics. He loved to listen to Brian get happy and excited when he talked about the sky, but supporting him wasn’t the same as understanding him. “You seem tense.”

Brian huffed a humorless laugh. “You can say that again,” he muttered under his breath. Seeming to catch himself, he shook his head. “I mean, it’s nothing. I’ll get it done.”

“You will,” Freddie agreed, both because he believed it and because he wanted to reassure him. “Perhaps you’ve been working too hard.”

Brian smiled ruefully. “Haven’t been working hard enough.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am.”

Freddie took a slow breath. He thought the world of Brian, but his stubborn streak was not one of his more endearing qualities. “It’s only that the stress seems to be getting to you.”

“I’m not stressed,” he mumbled reflexively, looking over at the tea kettle on the stove. “A little tense about deadlines, yeah, but that’s normal school stuff. I’m not stressed,” he repeated.

_ Bollocks.  _ Freddie studied his profile, the long curve of his nose and the way his chin was rested in his hand. Something about Brian looked made to be up all night with a book. He didn’t look like a typical rock guitarist at all, and sometimes, Freddie worried that the band was taking him away from his true passions. “Has the band distracted you too much?” he asked hesitantly.

Brian’s eyes snapped to his. “No,” he said immediately. “No, I just, I’m just not good at time-management. But the band is fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need a cuppa and then I can get back to work.” His posture was slumped. A part of him looked exhausted, but there was a hint of something frantic in his eyes.

It occurred to Freddie that his hair was probably messier than usual from running his hands through it. He didn’t like the way Brian looked right now. “Maybe you should take a longer break,” he offered carefully. “Have a few drinks with me and Roger.”

He shook his head again, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Sounds nice, but I’ve got writing to do.”

Freddie sighed. “If you’re sure.” He couldn’t pry too much, now could he? He wasn’t Brian’s mother. He was a grown man and if he wanted to pull another all-nighter writing his thesis, then no one could stop him. Besides, Freddie thought, he would probably pass out sometime tonight over his notes and get rest whether he liked it or not. He smirked to himself as he remembered that happening last week. Freddie woke up to find Brian’s cheek smushed against his papers and his arm hanging off the side of his bed.

Brian raised an eyebrow tiredly. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, dear,” he dismissed.

Once Brian got his cup of tea, he disappeared back into their shared room, and Freddie tried not to sigh.  _ Honestly, you just saw him. You can’t miss him already! _ But he sort of did. He liked spending evenings with him, laughing as they watched something on their small telly or having Roger join them for a night of drinks. He didn’t want to push and have Brian snap at him, however, so he let him be.

Until two days later.

Freddie came home from uni with a crick in his neck from being bent over drawing and a drowsiness tugging at his eyes. He liked his classes, but he knew his heart belonged to music more than drawing and painting. He wished he was finished with his classes already so he could fully focus on Queen, especially on finding a permanent bass player. For today, though, he simply put his things down, took off his shoes, and washed up in the loo. He wanted to relax this evening, maybe spend some time writing lyrics in his notebook that he kept under his pillow. As he dried his hands, he heard footsteps steadily clunking against the floorboards in the flat. He knew Roger was off at the stall today, but wasn’t Brian supposed to have a class right now?

Frowning, Freddie looked down the hall and saw that their bedroom door was shut and the footsteps sounded like they did, indeed, come from inside. It sounded like pacing. He walked to the room and opened the door slowly.

Papers were all over Brian’s bed, and the typewriter he’d rented from the university library was by his pillow. He was pacing around the small bedroom like a caged animal, his hair wild with a pen stuck in it. His undershirt was sticking out from underneath his university jumper, and his hands were shaking slightly. He was muttering something under his breath. It took him several moments to notice Freddie.

Brian stopped. “Freddie. Hi.” He resumed pacing and looked away from him, back in his own world.

Freddie couldn’t hold back a wince. “Darling, you don’t look so good.” 

Brian didn’t hear him, and he was biting his thumbnail in thought.

Freddie thought that maybe he should back out of the room and let him work, but he stared at Brian’s face and didn’t like the fatigue leaping off it. His eyes were bloodshot. This morning, again, he was awake before Freddie. Had he slept at all last night, or the night before?

Freddie felt guilty because he realized Brian’s stress levels were only getting worse since they talked at the kitchen table, and he didn’t intervene. 

“Brian?”

“Sorry, can’t talk,” he muttered.

Freddie had a feeling that what he was about to say wouldn’t be taken well, but he was pretty certain that Brian was supposed to be in class at this time, and he didn’t want to be accused of not reminding him later. “Brian, it’s past four.”

“Mhm,” he grunted, not looking at him.

“It’s Thursday.”

“Mmm.”

“ _It’s past four on a Thursday,”_ he emphasized. “Your schedule—don’t you have class?”

Brian stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at Freddie with wide, frightened eyes. “Oh, oh fuck,” he choked out. He sucked in a shaky breath through his mouth, his hands slowly coming up to tug at his hair. “No, no!”

Freddie held up his hands, trying to placate him. “Calm do—”

“No!” Brian shouted. “I  _ knew  _ there was something—!” He grabbed the clock that was on their shared bedside table, and his face fell further when he saw the time. “By the time I get there, class will be over!” he said in despair. “Fuck!” He looked around the room like he didn’t know what to do now.

Freddie’s heart sank and he wished he didn’t tell him about his missed class. He had seen Brian a little stressed before, but never like this. Damn, he should have helped him sooner. “So forget about the class,” Freddie waved his hand.

Brian whipped around and stared at him, and the gobsmacked look on his face and the state of his hair made him look like a mad scientist (and wasn’t he, really)? It would have been funny, but Freddie was unnerved by his expression. 

“Forget about class?” Brian nearly squawked. “I can’t! I’ve never missed a class!”

“So it’ll be okay if you only miss only one,” Freddie cut him off. “Mistakes happen. They won’t deny you your degree for missing a single class.”

“But it’s not just that,” Brian shook his head, his curls bouncing. “What if I don’t even get this,” he swung his hand to gesture to the explosion of papers on the bed behind him, “finished?” He swallowed. “Everything’s falling apart. I can’t do it,” he said in distress. He looked at his bed. “None of it makes sense.”

“None of it ever makes sense to me,” Freddie tried to joke.

Wrong move. Brian’s glare was thunderous. “I’m serious,” he growled.

Freddie held up his hands again. “All right, all right.” He normally didn’t let people use that tone with him, but he felt caught off guard by how seriously not-okay Brian was right now.

Brian’s breathing was going a bit erratic, and he licked his lips. “I have a deadline in two days and I’m not even halfway finished,” he said, looking at his papers like he wished they would spontaneously give him all the answers. “I’m going to fail and my dad’s going to be furious.”

“You won’t fail and he’ll be proud,” Freddie told him. 

Brian’s lips trembled, and he bit them. “I need—I need to work,” he moved to turn back to his bed.

Freddie caught him by the elbow. “You need to  _ rest,”  _ he said firmly. “When’s the last time you’ve slept for more than two hours at a time? Three at most?”

“Who cares?” Brian snapped.

Freddie felt his arm shaking in his grasp, and he held on tighter. “You can’t go on like this.”

“Stop,” Brian curled his lip in annoyance. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Freddie glared at him. “I’m trying to help you.”

“If that were true, you’d get out.”

Freddie was about to shove his arm away and stomp out of the room, but he held Brian’s gaze for a long, intense, angry moment, and when he really took in the dark circles under his eyes and how fatigued and weak Brian’s arm felt in his hand, the fire in him extinguished. Brian wasn’t in the right state of mind right now. As much as Freddie had a temper of his own, he couldn’t truly be cross with him right now.

Freddie loosened his grip on his arm, but didn’t let go. He made an effort of softening his voice. “Brian, you’re very stressed,” he said slowly. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“That’s the problem!” he shouted, shaking himself free and throwing his hands into the air. “I’ve been trying to write all day long and nothing is coming out! It’s all rubbish.” He tugged at his hair, fingers close to the scalp. “I can’t  _ think,”  _ he lamented through gritted teeth.

Freddie grasped his wrists and pulled them away from his hair. “Stop that! You’ll hurt yourself.” He was getting a little scared now, truth be told.

Brian took his trembling hands back roughly. Hysteria was shining in his wide eyes, and his breathing was quickening enough to cause his shoulders to heave. “I’m not cut out for this,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m in t-too deep,” he tripped over his words due to the trembling of his jaw.

_ He’s panicking. It’s a panic attack. _ Freddie was almost in awe, because he remembered being a couple of years younger and looking up to Brian, the intelligent, meticulous guitarist from Smile, and wishing so very badly to be his friend and sing his songs. He wondered how he could write songs so well. He didn’t think he’d ever see him like this. Freddie’s heart was tearing in two.  _ My poor, brilliant dear.  _

Freddie reached out and laid a hand carefully on Brian’s shoulder. “Brian, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” he said honestly. “You can do this. You  _ will  _ do this. But you need to give your poor brain a break. You can’t run yourself ragged and expect to produce genius results! You haven’t been taking care of yourself properly for days, so of course you can’t focus now.”

He blinked. “But…I’ve got to...”

“You  _ can’t  _ right now, and that’s all right! You’ve got more time than you think.”

“I don’t,” he protested weakly.

“You do. You’ll only hurt your work in the long run if you don’t give your mind a chance to recharge.” Freddie wasn’t going to allow Brian to drive himself crazy for a moment longer. He would tie him down to the bed, if he had to. 

“...Maybe...that sort of makes sense,” he conceded.

“Of course it does!” he said emphatically. “Do I sing my best after a weekend of performances? No! I need to rest my voice before I can use it again. That big brain of yours requires the same thing.”

Brian looked back at his mess of bed hopelessly. “But…” 

“Until morning,” Freddie insisted. “Rest for the rest of the day and night. You can start up again tomorrow, but you need to relax  _ now.” _

Something in Brian’s face shattered, and his frenzied, nearly feverish eyes got a hint of moisture in them. “I can’t,” he said, voice sounding small and broken. His hands shook harder. “I tried to calm down, but I can’t. My heart keeps racing, and…” He gulped. “When I eat, I feel sick, but I know I should be eating more. But I can’t. I know I should sleep more, too, but I can’t do it. I can’t sit still. My chest gets tight, and…” he trailed off.

Sorrow flooded Freddie’s chest. “How long have you been trying to calm down, but couldn’t?”

The wetness in Brian’s eyes looked like it was about to overflow, and he looked down at the floor quickly. “A few days,” he mumbled, sounding hopeless.

Freddie felt like a terrible friend. How did he not notice things were this bad? Fuck it. He pulled Brian into a tight hug, arms wrapping around his back. “Oh, dearie,” he chastised, “why didn’t you  _ say  _ anything? You could’ve talked to me.”

Brian was shaking like a leaf in his arms and had to lean down a bit due to his superior height, but after being rigid for a few seconds, he sagged into the embrace. “I dunno,” he mumbled dejectedly. “I get like this sometimes. Always have. It hasn’t been this bad in years, though,” he confessed. “I thought I could handle it.” He sounded ashamed.

Freddie felt  _ awful  _ that he was hurting so for days.  _ You aren’t alone. I’m here. I’m always here for you.  _ “I’m your friend. You can ask for help.”

Brian sniffed. “Thanks,” he said thickly.

Freddie closed his eyes and squeezed him tighter, because if Brian sounded any closer to crying, he might start getting teary, himself. Freddie should have known he needed help, damn it. Brian could be so sensitive sometimes, and there he was, being a shit friend. Roger lived with them, too, but he didn’t know how little Brian had been sleeping. “Roger, too,” Freddie said. “He’s a tart, but you know he’s a good friend.”

Brian laughed quietly, wetly. “A good tart.”

“A good tart,” Freddie giggled. He held him closer, trying to get him to stop trembling, and he knew he never wanted to see Brian this upset again. Freddie cared about him so much. Oh, who was he kidding? He  _ adored  _ Brian. One of his best friends. “You’ve got me,” he murmured. “I can’t help with your math and stars, but I can help with this.”

Brian nodded. “You, too. If you ever feel like this.”

“Thank you, darling.”

The trembling in Brian’s limbs slowed a little, though it was still present. He pulled back enough to look at Freddie. The mania was beginning to fade from his eyes. His face was close, and his breath was warm on Freddie’s face. Now that he was slightly less nervous, he looked even more tired. Freddie had panic attacks before, and he knew how they could wipe someone out.

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask how your day was,” Brian mumbled.

Freddie snorted. “It was fine, you idiot,” he put a hand on his chest, and felt the quick, hard beat of his heart. He tsk’d and rubbed his hand over his jumper-clad chest. “Breathe slower, Brian. Your heart’s still beating far too hard.”

For some reason, that made him blush a little. It was sweet, but it confused Freddie. “Erm, yeah,” Brian said. “The nerves, you know.” He closed his eyes and took a slow breath in and out through his nose. 

Freddie grinned at him. “That’s a dear.” He reached up and removed the pen that had been stuffed into Brian’s mane of curls. “You’ve been treating your hair abysmally,” he tutted.

“As if it doesn’t always look like this,” he said wryly. 

He was still shaking, but Freddie took the return of his sense of humor as a good sign, so he ran with it. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a bird’s nest right now,” he ruffled the curls.

“Hey!” Brian chuckled.

The chuckle vibrated through Freddie’s chest, and he suppressed a shiver.

Brian moved to hide his face behind his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better,” he teased.

“But I’m being honest.”

And maybe it wasn’t strictly necessary to hug for this long, but neither said a word about that. Freddie wanted to hold him until the shaking stopped entirely. He still felt guilty that he let his friend get this bad. He should have insisted Brian stopped working a couple days ago. He should have talked to him more. He decided that from now on, he would try to look for signs of one of these episodes and try to prevent them from coming on, if he could, or at least lessen the severity of them. He wanted to yell at the thoughts in Brian’s head that told him he wasn’t good enough or smart enough until they fucked off and left him alone.

_ You’re brilliant, Bri,  _ he wanted to say. He held his tongue.

Freddie felt Brian’s body grow a little heavier in his arms. He rubbed his back. “Getting tired now, dear?”

Brian hummed and lifted his head. “Sorry,” he blinked. “I guess I really haven’t been sleeping much at all,” he said sheepishly.

“You’re dead on your feet,” Freddie tutted, brushing a curl away from his forehead, and then another. God, his hair really was a mess. 

“Maybe,” he admitted. His eyes fluttered shut when Freddie brushed more of his hair away from his forehead. “It’s a mess, I know,” he said, voice turning a little husky.

Freddie pushed away the tingle that went up his spine. He should stop touching him. “It’s cute,” he said, because he was an idiot, apparently.

The flush was back on Brian’s face. “Yeah, right.”

Freddie thought that shade of pink was a lovely color on him. He moved hair away from lower on his face, just so his fingers could brush his warm cheek. It was greedy of him, but he was feeling fiercely protective of Brian right now, and wanted to coddle him. Sometimes, he wanted to show how much he cared for him, and it was difficult to hold back right now after Brian nearly cried in front of him.

Brian’s hazel eyes had lost their frenzy, and they looked sleepy, but there was still weariness in his gaze. His eyelashes fluttered when Freddie brushed more of his hair back.

Freddie watched, transfixed. “Is this relaxing you?” he asked in a hush.

The flush deepened. “Kind of. Sorry, just…”

Freddie shook his head. “It’s all right.” If this was making Brian calm down, then he was happy to do this. Freddie wanted to make sure he got a proper rest, but feared that if he left the room, Brian would try to make himself work again. He bit his bottom lip. He had an idea, but what if it was rejected? What if it was seen as too, well, gay?

“What?” Brian asked.

Freddie forced confidence into his tone. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this help?” he tugged a ringlet lightly. “Because I can keep doing this. I’ve heard scalp massages are lovely, you know. Good for relaxation.”

His swallow was audible. “You don’t have to,” he said stiffly.

“I know.”

Brian averted his gaze. “You’ve already done so much…”

“Bollocks,” Freddie said simply. Internally, his heart was pounding.  _ Let me take care of you. Let me help.  _ “What are friends for?” he asked, although the words felt wrong on his tongue. As much as he loved Roger, he didn’t think he would ever want to stroke his hair like this. But anything beyond friendship couldn’t be thought of right now, when Brian was so vulnerable. Freddie removed his hand from his hair and put it on his chest again, feeling the fast beating of his heart. “Until you calm down,” he whispered. “Until you stop shaking.”

Brian was embarrassed. “God, I’m acting so stupid right now,” he held up a shaking hand and grimaced at it.

“You aren’t,” Freddie reassured him. “You’ve been working very hard and you’ve reached your limit. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.” He paused. “If you’re worried, this can stay between us,” he said.

Some of the tension in Brian’s shoulders faded. He lifted his gaze, almost shyly. “If you  _ really  _ don’t mind…”

“I don’t. We can lie down and I can try to untangle this mop of yours. That’s all. It won’t be that much different from when I give your hair a few finishing touches before we go on stage, yes?”

After a moment of deliberation, he gave in. “All right.”

That was how Freddie found himself with Brian’s head on his chest and his fingers in his curls. Brian was lying on his back, long legs crossed on the bed to avoid taking up all the room. His bed was littered with paper, so they were using Freddie’s. His hands were folded on his stomach, and he had tensed up a bit again since lying down. Freddie told himself not to let it get to him, but a voice in his head told him that Brian was uncomfortable because Freddie was gay. He shook his head. No, he wasn’t like that. Freddie was being insecure again. But he knew that he was doing this because he cared for Brian more than a normal friend did. No, he couldn’t let himself get caught up in those thoughts now. Brian needed him.

Freddie made sure his fingers were gentle and slow so he didn’t accidentally tug a knot and hurt him. His hair was thick and felt frizzy today, and Freddie wondered if it was softer on days when it was taken care of. He caressed the curls, stopping to scratch at his scalp lightly with his painted fingernails. Brian let out a small, deep hum, and Freddie felt it in his chest. He pressed his lips together.

Their thighs were pressing together on the mattress, and Brian’s head and torso were a warm, solid weight on his body. They were sitting up against the headboard, and Freddie could feel the quivering of his muscles against him. It upset him, but he didn’t want to embarrass Brian more by bringing it up again.

“I should still try to get something done today,” Brian said stubbornly.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Over my dead body. No more thinking about space dust for today.”

Brian sighed. “Fine.”

Freddie smoothed back some hair from his forehead and got to work carding through the small knots. Their bedroom was quiet, with only the sounds of their breathing making any noise in the flat. Slowly, Brian’s body eased against him. Freddie made the movements of his fingers more delicate still, and after a minute, the trembling in his muscles stopped.

“Starting to feel better?” Freddie murmured.

“Mmm, yeah,” Brian slurred.

He laughed lightly. “Good.” 

“Just...another minute of this,” he said through a yawn.

“Of course,” he indulged him. His heart beat heavily against the warmth of Brian’s body, and he kept his hand moving in a slow, tender caress. He knew Brian needed a proper meal, but thought that a nap was more important for his mental well being right now. Freddie watched Brian as his eyes closed, then fluttered open, and then drooped closed again. Freddie’s insides felt like warm pudding as he watched this process, watched Brian fight to stay awake. 

_ Yes! _ he thought triumphantly. Brian was calming down. A silly part of Freddie thought of humming to him, but no, that might rouse him. This was working, so he should keep at it. Freddie felt some of the curls loosen and get untangled, and after a few quiet minutes, he was sort of petting his hair more than anything else. It was peaceful, and Freddie wished they could share gentle, quiet moments like this more often. He remembered when he first saw Smile, and his eyes were glued to the beautiful, talented guitarist, and he’d been a goner ever since.

Brian’s eyes closed, and they stayed that way for a half a minute.

Freddie stopped moving his hand.

A furrow formed between his brow.

His hand went back to his hair.

Brian’s features smoothed out again.

_ Ah, well. I’m stuck, then.  _ He...was okay with this. Freddie slowly stroked his thick hair, and let himself smile with teeth as he watched Brian’s face relax further, his lips parting until his mouth was hanging open. He looked absolutely absurd. Freddie thought he was delightful, and felt relieved. Finally, his mad scientist was entirely calm. Freddie knew from sharing a room that Brian had the tendency to mumble in his sleep, but it appeared that his brain was giving him a break on that end, too, as he was silent and still.

The front door to the flat opened and closed. 

Freddie groaned quietly in irritation. Brian had only  _ just  _ fallen asleep since god-knows when. He hoped Roger didn’t come barging in, especially since Brian would get embarrassed that he was basically using Freddie as a reclining chair and fell asleep with his head tilted back on his chest and shoulder, and then he wouldn’t want to go back to sleep. Besides, this wasn’t exactly an...ideal position to be found in. Telling Roger about getting his dick sucked on a casual date was one thing, but having him see Freddie’s heart on his sleeve with their mutual friend was another. Maybe Roger wouldn’t come in here.

“Hello? Brian? Freddie?” he called.

Freddie bit his lip. He didn’t respond.  _ Don’t come in here, don’t come in here, don’t— _

The door creaked open and Roger poked his head in. His eyes widened, and then he got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh. Hey there, mate,” he said while keeping his voice, mercifully, quiet.

Freddie felt his face burn. So much for keeping this just between them. He really hoped Brian didn’t wake up now. “No need to look so smug,” he whispered and narrowed his eyes. “He’s worked up about his thesis. I’m helping.”

Roger fully came into the room. His mischievous grin didn’t waver. “Helping, yeah,” he nodded. “That’s why you’re petting him like he’s a curly cat.”

Freddie blushed harder and took his hand away. “He hasn’t slept in days,” he defended himself in an angry whisper. “He needs it. He was driving himself bonkers.”

Roger still looked entirely too smug. He shrugged his shoulders with poorly-acted innocence. “I’m not judgin’. Looks like you’ve done a good job. He looks comfy.”

“Shut up.”

As if on cue, Brian sighed deeply, and then he started snoring softly.

Roger wheezed and covered his mouth to stifle his sniggering.

Freddie was about to put a protective arm around Brian, but he’d shown his arse enough for one day. “Go away,” he whispered. “Don’t wake him up.”

Roger’s smirk was so wide that it looked fake. “Aww, how protective. Have fun, Fred,” he winked.

Freddie shot daggers at him.

Roger left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Freddie titled his head back and whined at the ceiling.  _ Why me? _

Brian shifted at the noise. He rolled over onto his side, his long arm curling loosely around Freddie’s waist instinctively. He settled with strands of hair in his face, which ruffled with each deep breath in and out his mouth. He was sound asleep.

Freddie couldn’t stop the wave of fondness that crashed over him. He supposed this was going to be his evening now, lying here with Brian dead to the world against his chest. He knew that it would probably be a little awkward when Brian woke up (more than a little; he was probably going to be mortified to find himself in this position), but Freddie was determined to let him know this was okay. The last thing he wanted was for Brian to close himself off and not tell him if something was wrong in the future because of this. He needed somebody to lean on, and Freddie was more than happy to be that person.

Freddie shook his head and looked down at him. “You’re too smart for your own good,” he whispered as quietly as he could.

Brian didn’t stir, and his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt.

It would be so easy to press a warm, delicate kiss to his forehead, but Freddie didn’t. Something held him back, maybe the fear that he would awaken, or maybe the feeling that they weren’t ready for anything yet. Freddie had a terrible habit of rushing into things and then getting his heart broken. He didn’t want that with Brian. They, and their band in its infancy, couldn’t afford it. So, for now, Freddie was glad he was able to pull Brian out of a panic attack and get him to rest earnestly for the first time in days. He would take his small victories.

Brian mumbled nonsense into Freddie’s chest, his normally soft voice even gentler in sleep. The corner of his mouth twitched. 

“Shhh,” Freddie breathed, giving him a small squeeze.

Reassured by the touch, Brian let out a small, content sigh, and then his face was serene again.

Freddie resisted the urge to hug him tightly.

Yes, this was fine for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading~


End file.
